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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552134">Rad</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka'>yeaka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:26:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552134</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor talks normally.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: My boy Bryce started <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xp4pk5VKIwY">a blind DBH Let’s Play</a> and I stole his Connor dialogue~ </p><p>Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s ten o’clock at night, raining cats and dogs the size of Sumo, and the wind keeps battering the windshield like it’s going to punch right through and drench Hank to the bone. Overall, it’s another miserable duty shift. Maybe having Connor’s LED shining a cheerful blue around his temple offers a <i>small</i> ray of pseudo-sunshine, but Hank’s not quite willing to admit that mechanical features once foreign and irksome are now strangely soothing—somehow, it does feel less like a chore to roll out of bed and pull out his gun when Connor’s hot on his tail. Connor doesn’t look nearly as good in the passenger seat as he does curled up on the other side of Hank’s bed, but he does look a good deal nicer than the emptiness Hank used to have. He’s had plenty of partners come and go over the years, but none are quite like <i>Connor.</i> The silence is a little too comfortable. Hank pulls up to the curb of the victim’s tiny hovel and leans back in his seat to yawn, noticing the way Connor’s brown eyes affectionately sweep over him. </p><p>“I could review the case alone,” Connor offers, but Hank clamps his jaw shut again and shakes his head—the last thing he needs is to be replaced by a newer, cuter, more capable model. He kicks out of the car door and rushes around the side, over the yellow tape, the rain pounding into him with more pressure than his showerhead’s ever had. Connor joins him immediately, making no comment on the clear droplets slithering down his face and gluing his grey jacket to him. Sometimes Hank has to remind himself that Connor <i>can’t</i> catch a cold. They make for the house together, Connor calling over the rain, “By the way, Lieutenant, I’ve been downloading more colloquial speech patterns. It shouldn’t affect the case, but while it’s running, my analytical functions may be up to three milliseconds slower.”</p><p>Hank snorts, because he can’t think in milliseconds anyway, and then sneezes, because his jacket’s already waterlogged. As they sidle through the open door, Hank grunts, “You sound normal to me. Which is good, by the way—it feels like every time you mess with your system, it just messes things up.” He’ll never quite recover from the time Connor downloaded ‘Traci-mode’ freeware and jumped him in the kitchen, only to pound him into the tile so hard that he actually had to call in sick for work the next day. That was a month ago, and he’s <i>still</i> hiding leftover hickeys. Then there was the time Connor downloaded a ‘dog walking’ program, and Hank came home to find Sumo’s leash clipped to Connor’s tie and a panting android begging to be taken out. As far as he’s concerned, the world of android DLC is just one big cesspool.</p><p>They weave past a few CSI workers in full anti-contamination gear and follow the blood spatter through the entranceway. It stands out so vividly against the white laminate floor that Hank doesn’t need to rely on Connor’s superior eyesight. Connor assures him, “It’s only a minor alteration, and it should only occur in... let’s say ‘emotive’ situations.’” He turns to throw a wink over his shoulder that Hank could kill him for. Of course, Hank’s face immediately responds. He can feel himself blushing. He’s pretty sure that’s Connor’s way of saying ‘I can dirty talk now’, which would definitely be a vast improvement on Connor’s current formal declarations of love making, except Hank really doesn’t need to be thinking about that in front of witnesses. </p><p>They reach the bathroom, where a dead body’s face down in the bathtub, and Connor reels back so suddenly that he nearly knocks Hank over. Before Hank can yelp at that, Connor’s shouting, “Dude, what happened to this guy!”</p><p>The three officers lining the hall all look around. Chris is over by the sink, examining some writing on the mirror, except he stops that to ogle Connor. <i>Hank’s</i> ogling Connor. Then he sighs, because <i>of course</i> this would happen. Of course Connor would innocently download something ‘human’ off the internet only to go way <i>too</i> human. </p><p>It’s not going to work. Hank can’t function with everyone staring at him, thinking he has the weirdest android on the planet. He throws Chris an apologetic look and tugs Connor back into the hall, ready to take him to the porch and whisper to him to revert back <i><br/>right now.</i> Except Connor’s already pointing at a CSI agent Hank’s never seen before and asking, “Who dis?”</p><p>Hank’s embarrassing youth hits him full force, and he grabs Connor’s hand so hard it’s a wonder the synthetic skin stays on. He tells the rest of the team, “We’ll be right back.”</p><p>No one questions it, probably because the CSI officers don’t know them well enough and Chris was there that one time Connor purchased flavoured thirium and tried spitting the cream one into Reed’s coffee. Yet Connor has the audacity to give Hank a clueless look like <i>Hank’s</i> the one that’s bugged. </p><p>They tuck into the kitchen, where there seems to be no evidence for anyone to bag up, and Connor asks, “Not good?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“It’s possible the coding might require tweaking.”</p><p>“Connor.”</p><p>Connor frowns but agrees, “Updates deactivated.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Should I try again when we’re at home, alone?”</p><p>Hank opens his mouth, closes it, and begrudgingly says, “Sure.”</p>
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